Southern Hospitality by Sally Falcon Page A

have had this out already.”
    “Okay,” she answered, sitting up and readjusting her cap. Turning to face him, she hooked her leg up onto the console. “I was spitting mad yesterday morning when I woke up and realized that an absolute stranger undressed me. Of course, it didn’t help that I’d just learned I was going on a three-day trip with the same person.”
    “I really didn’t look, at least no more than necessary. The Herringtons have set the standard for good manners in Boston for over two hundred years.” Logan flinched at his own words, he’d gone from lame to pompous in a matter of seconds. “Youreally shouldn’t worry so much, you have a beautiful body.” Oh, Lord, that makes it even worse.
    “I knew I should have taken Trevor up on his offer.”
    Logan wished he dared look to see Tory’s expression, but he had to keep his eye on the car in front of them that was slowing for the exit. “What did he offer to do?”
    “He knows some truckers that might be willing to break a few of your bones,” she announced quite happily. “You’d only shown up on my doorstep at midnight when he offered.”
    “I can imagine. He gave me a rather cautionary brotherly talk last night.”
    “He did?”
    “Mmmmm-hmmmn. He explained that young women of the southern persuasion were delicate flowers that had been gently nurtured.” Logan schooled his features to be properly earnest, just as Trevor’s had been. He knew it was a red herring, but Tory was talking to him. It would also be nice to have her mad at someone else for a change.
    “Tell me he didn’t, please?” Tory begged in a tone that told Logan he’d succeeded in diverting her.
    “He didn’t mention any names, if that’s any comfort.” His lips twitched slightly at Tory’s answering groan. “And he had this curious habit of fingering his steak knife during the entire conversation.”
    “It’s definitely time for Dwayne and Little Otis.”
    “Who?”
    “I have some truckers of my own, if necessary,” she said with a hint of pride.
    “Does this mean you’re still mad at me?”
    “Just don’t let it happen again,” she warned, but he could detect some humor in her tone.
    Logan didn’t realize until that moment how tense he’d been, his body stiff as his hands clenched the steering wheel. He made a conscious effort to relax, but cautioned himself to be on his guard. There was the ever-present danger of putting his foot in his mouth again. “So, how does a delicate flower meet truckers?”
    “They’re delivery men for the construction crew that’s working on my shops.” The pride was back in her words tenfold.
    “Your shops? What do you sell?”
    “Food, wonderful food. I have a catering business that I’m expanding to include three retail stores,” she explained easily, and Logan knew that he’d picked the right subject, for once. “In fact, if we have time on the way back I want to stop at Wiederkehrs vineyards to see about handling some of their wines in the shops.”
    “Who’s your clientele?” He decided not to ask about the quality of Arkansas wines since the conversation was going so well.
    “Mostly singles, or people who don’t like to cook or have the time to do something out of the ordinary. Trevor suggested it after I’d been getting requests for private dinners, as well as the usual parties and receptions.” Tory laughed suddenly, catching Logan by surprise. “Actually, Trevor was my inspiration. He kept conning me into making him elegant dinners for two. I’m sure there are some delicately nurtured flowers out there who were led astray by my big brother after a dinner I prepared.”
    “So, that’s why you have so much free time. I was beginning to wonder if you were on vacation.”
    “Not really. I’ve slowed down operations while the shops are being renovated, and I’m at the mercy of my family’s sob stories. That’s why I’m on the way to Oklahoma in a motor home.”
    “Why are we using this